All Of You
by The Red Celt
Summary: Fill for the kinkmeme in which Shepard makes it out of the Citadel alive, but her eyes are damaged and she's struck blind. FemShep/Garrus fluffy stuff.


The last six months had been a whirlwind of hospitals and doctors, physical therapists and surgeries. Shepard had been recovered from the wreckage of the Citadel, broken and barely recognizable but _alive_, but Garrus hadn't found out until about three months later when the Normandy re-entered Council space. The extranet, still functional despite the damage done to the relays, was abuzz with news reports from every corner of the galaxy as they slowly trickled in and the one thing that had grabbed everyone's attention was the rumor that Commander Shepard was still alive and being treated at an undisclosed location. A call to Admiral Hackett (and a few choice words to counter his claims of her condition being listed as "classified") confirmed it, and he and the rest of the crew had high-tailed it to one of the few in-tact hospitals on Earth, his heart in his throat at what he might find there.

The damage had been extensive—she'd already had several skin grafts done, helped along by the heavy skin weave upgrades she'd invested in the year before, and they'd had to rebuild one of her legs and several fingers. Most of her bones had been broken or fractured in the crash and subsequent explosion, and she was wrapped almost head to toe in bandages when he was finally allowed into her room to see her. Visiting hours were technically over, but one look at his face told the nurses that he would not be dissuaded and they let him in; the head nurse watched him through the window with her arms crossed and a smile on her face as he settled into the chair beside her before closing the curtains on them.

Her eyelids opened a crack when he gently lifted her hand and laced his fingers with hers, but she didn't look at him. She smiled weakly, though, as she stared at some point just over his shoulder.

"Hey, you," he said, and her fingers twitched as she tried to hold his hand but couldn't quite control her fine motor movements yet.

"Hey," she answered, her voice low and groggy with the painkillers that were being pumped into her arm. There were so many wires and tubes and needles and machines hooked up to her that he couldn't make sense of them all, and she looked so frail lying there in a white cocoon of sterile sheets and pillows. He stroked her cheek, one of the only parts of her that remained mostly undamaged aside from the yellowing bruise just under her eye. It was then that he saw the unfocused look in her eyes, the way she stared past him, almost as though . . . He waved his hand in front of her face, but she didn't register the movement.

"I can feel that, you know," she said and closed her useless, but still beautiful, eyes. "The doctors said that my optic nerves were damaged beyond repair. I told them to tell that to Cerberus, but since Cerberus has been gutted the Project Lazarus records have been lost." A tear rolled down to pool in the cup of her ear, but she ignored it. "Looks like my Alliance career is officially over," she said with a weak laugh.

"Well, we were talking about retiring after the war was over," Garrus said. He couldn't keep from touching her, to keep convincing himself that this was real and that she really was alive. "Probably for the best—you always were a terrible driver, and being blind isn't going to help at all." She laughed again, small but real, before clutching her side and groaning. "Sorry, I'll stop."

"No, it's fine." She slowly raised his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles. "I need to keep a positive attitude about this—there are a lot of people out there who have it worse. Feeling sorry for myself won't help."

"You're allowed a little self-pity in situations like this, Shepard."

"Maybe later. How's the rest of the crew? Did everyone make it out okay?"

"Aside from a few minor injuries, we all made it." She sighed in relief; at least there was that. In a galaxy busy putting itself back together, with so many dead, her crew had survived. It was a small thing, but it meant everything to her and in that moment, she began to believe that everything would be all right in the end. "We had to do a lot of work on EDI—some of her systems were fried in the blast—but we got her back up and running again. Legion's okay, too, but I'm still not sure whether I should be happy about that or not." She frowned and lightly slapped his chest. "He's a geth, Shepard. I can't help feeling the urge to shoot him."

"He's all right. They're helping rebuild Rannoch now, you know."

"I heard. He and Tali are going to head back as soon as they get a chance to say goodbye." The nurse came in with a tray of food that may or may not have been edible—he'd seen human food before, and this looked too bland and monochrome to taste like anything other than cardboard—and put it on a rolling table before leaving them again. "Everyone's working together—the geth and the quarians, the turians and krogan. You should see it—" he said, and cringed at his own words.

"It's okay, Garrus, it's just a figure of speech." She sniffed and turned her head toward the tray of food. "Is that soup?"

"Probably, but the jury's still out on that." He lifted her up and repositioned the pillows behind her so she could sit up, wincing at the pain that knifed through her midsection before subsiding back into the dull ache that meant her pain meds were wearing off. She felt around the tray, trying to make sense of it, and almost knocked over the glass of juice in the process. Garrus took her hands and guided them over each item in turn until she had the whole thing mapped out, then sat back and let her eat. It was a slow, methodical process with her untrustworthy fingers and inability to see what she was doing, but she managed it with minimal spills and only a little direction from Garrus.

"I think I'm going to have to invest in a bib or something," she said as he wiped off some soup that she'd dripped on her front.

"Yeah, soup probably wasn't the best choice for you." He made a mental note to talk to the nursing staff about that later. She shifted a little, her lips pressed into a tight white line. "You need some more meds?" She nodded, and he hit the button on the machine hooked up to the forest of tubes, and she began to relax almost immediately. He moved the pillows back and laid her down again, smoothing her hair back as her eyelids fluttered shut. "I'll be here when you wake up," he said, and kissed her forehead as she fell into unconsciousness. He stayed by her side for a long time, watching her sleep, and tried not to think about how close he'd come to losing her again. She had a long way to go before she was fully recovered, but where there was life there was hope. These days, he and the rest of the galaxy had a lot of reason to hope, due in large part to Shepard. The future was looking bright for the first time in years and, after living so long under the shadow of the Reapers, he could finally let himself entertain the idea of spending the rest of his life with her and that more than anything else made him realize that the war was over. They'd won.

* * *

"Okay, this is the living room. Over to the left is a doorway that goes into the kitchen, and there's a flight of stairs right in front of you." Garrus had one arm around her waist as he walked her into the room. The last box had finally been unpacked and things were more or less where they belonged in their new house that he'd found. It had taken him about a month to find it, and another two months for utilities to be restored, but it was finally ready. She'd made an astounding recovery according to her doctors, but they still hadn't been able to restore her eyesight. Shepard was taking it remarkably well, but he knew she didn't like feeling so helpless.

"One, two, three—there's an end table right here," he said, counting out the steps and bringing her hand to the table's surface. "The couch is here, and it's ten steps to the wall."

They mapped out the rooms downstairs and she kept her eyes closed as she concentrated and memorized the layout. "You know you're going to have to do the cooking until I get the hang of this."

"One of my many skills," he said, and she cocked her head in his direction, a bemused smile on her face.

"You cook? Really?"

"Yeah. Dextro stuff, mostly, but I think I can handle levo food too. Any requests?"

"Hmmm . . . pancakes. I haven't had those in years."

"I'll see what I can do."

They made their way upstairs and he was pleased to see that she was moving around more confidently, her hands outstretched as she felt around, her new fingers questing over the walls and furniture. He led her over to the last door at the end of the hall and pushed the door open.

"This is our bedroom."

"Oooh, 'our' bedroom. I like the sound of that."

He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her, relishing the weight of her against him and the scent of her hair as he lowered his head to hers. She kissed him with a sigh and ran her hands over his face, taking in the different textures of the lighter plates around his eyes, the joints of his mandibles, the scars on his neck.

"So where's the bed?" she asked, and he backed her up slowly, nuzzling her neck until her knees bumped into the mattress. "Ah, here it is."

"Yeah, there it is," he murmured against her neck, her pulse quickening under his tongue as he tasted the soft skin there.

"I think I need a closer inspection." She started undoing the closures of his tunic and he hummed into her ear. Somehow, losing one sense had heightened the others and made his voice, his touch, his scent even more wonderful than before. He pulled her shirt off and tossed it aside, then lifted her onto the bed and up to the pillows. She started working her pants down over her hips and he yanked them off, dragging her toward him as she laughed. She did that more often now, and he thought he could get used to the sound.

"A little eager, are we?" she asked, pulling him back down for a kiss.

"I've missed you," he said, his mouth brushing hers as he nudged her legs apart with his knees and settled himself between them. Foreplay could wait for next time when they both had more patience; right now, he needed to be as close to her as possible and he sensed that she felt the same way. They'd waited so long for this, and it took no time at all for him to push free of his plates, hard and ready. She reached between his legs and stroked him lightly, making his breath catch, before guiding him closer and wrapping her legs around him with the silent plea, _Please, I need you now_.

She was already wet, but still too tight as he pushed slowly inside her, and she arched her back as he spread her wide. He kept his forehead pressed to hers, his eyes closed, and she touched his face to feel the way his mandibles fluttered, traced his fringe and pushed against that spot he liked. He moaned and started moving, their bodies finding that old rhythm quickly and she dug her fingers into his back. She couldn't get him close enough, wanted to feel his weight, the roughness of his scales, the hard muscles working against her, and she kissed him hard, her lips reddening as they rubbed against the brushed leather of his mouth. Garrus seemed to pick up on what she wanted and grabbed her knee, pulled it up, and ground his hips into hers.

"Is this what you want?" he asked, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming back home, and her mouth fell open in a silent cry. "Tell me what you want."

"All of you," she said, and cried out again as he thrust into her again, and the angle at which he held her legs had him sliding against all her sweet spots. "I want all of you, Garrus. That's all I've ever wanted."

And that's what he gave her as they moved together, wrapped up in each other until the rest of the world didn't exist and it was just the two of them. She buried her face in his neck, muffling her moans as the pleasure washed over her, her body tightening around him as she came. That was all it took to send him over the edge and he spilled inside her, his hips moving on their own now as he gasped and moaned into her hair. She kissed his neck and he shivered, breathless.

"I love you so much," he whispered, and kissed her once more before lying beside her and pulling the blanket up.

"Love you, too," she answered, and curled up against him, soaking in the warmth of his body. "Maybe later, you could show me the shower."

"Yeah, you should really get a closer inspection of the shower." He nipped at her ear, "And the kitchen table," he said, kissing her neck, and she started laughing as he rolled back on top of her, "and the couch."

She smiled and cupped his face to feel his mandibles spread wide in a smile to match. "Sounds like you've got the day all planned out, Mister Vakarian."

"I've got most of the next month planned out, Miss Shepard."

Yes, the future was looking very bright, indeed.


End file.
